Cursive Formalities
by Joel182
Summary: Pictures are worth a thousand words, but words themselves are worth far more. Six years ago, Randy Orton believed the exact opposite. A short SLASH about Randy Orton and Christian Cage. The POV belongs to Randy through and through. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR THE PLOT. THANK WWE AND VINNY MAC FOR THE NAMES AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN :D**

Before you read this **- don't look like that, it's short -** let me just say that this is my first ever pairing of these two. So yes, I want you to judge accordingly. Feedback! Feedback! Feedback! To add, like Walls Of Jericho, I won't stick too closely to the time line.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The Sleeping Beauty.<p>

Once upon a time there lived a princess in a castle. She was beautiful, fair, well-loved, and kind. However, in a high tower lived an evil witch who decided to put a spell on the princess. A spell that put the princess into a long, long slumber awaiting the kiss of a noble Prince. A kiss that would wake her up from her sleep.

I don't read fairytales. As far as childhood stories go, I was never a fan of the "happily ever afters". What can I say? I'm a boy.

However, when I heard about Sleeping Beauty, I realized just how ironic that story was in terms of it's closeness to mine. Actually, Sleeping Beauty is my story because you see, here in this castle called WWE sleeps a princess. I don't know how long this princess has been sleeping for, but if I had to count, about twenty seven years sounds about right. I wasn't around for those twenty seven years. I came in at around the ten year mark, but fact is, I've been here ever since.

I've been here right beside this sleeping princess that I could never even hope to wake up. Why? Well it's because even in the story of Sleeping Beauty, they fail to mention the solider that was always there. The one who missed that spell. The one standing by the princess for years, and years, and years. The one dressed in the clothes of a Prince.

How long.

Every time I see my princess I wonder just how long I have to stand by and watch. And wait. How long do I have to keep on hoping? Hoping that one day, you'd finally open your eyes and see me there standing, waiting there with an open heart that's ready to love. Ready to care. Ready to be placed in your gentle grasp.

I said I'd wait. Wait until you finally found the courage to let go. I never said i out loud. I had promised it to myself. But...now I wonder - just how long do I have to wait? Ten years? Twenty? Fifty?

One hundred?

I'd wait them all. You know I would. But you know, physically, I just can't because even though - like The Sleeping Beauty - time has stopped all around you, for me the clock keeps ticking. And now, I've come to realize that maybe I'm running out of time.

So, princess. How long do you want me to stand here and watch you sleep? Watch you hurt? Watch you cry?

Answer me. Please.

Please.


	2. Chapter 2

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

However, what hurt the most wasn't my body. No, no. Sure I was banged up -a three man beat-down will do that to anybody -but more than my aching body, my heart hurt. It felt heavy, like...like someone had dropped three Big Shows on it. Betrayal has a way of doing that - twisting everything in barb wire while simultaneously dropping the full weight of three freaking Big Shows on top of a beating heart.

Once.

Once beating heart.

Five minutes ago I had retained my World Championship against the man I beat one night ago at Summer Slam. Now that I look back at it, I wonder what ever made me think that the exact opposite would have happened? Evolution was in my corner. My friends were in my corner. I was never going to lose the title. I was going to lose something far worse.

Four minutes ago, Evolution entered the ring. They dispatched of Chris leaving just us four to occupy the squared circle. Four minutes ago I was the happiest man alive. I was alive. As Triple H - Hunter; my mentor - ordered Batista to hoist me atop his shoulders, I couldn't wipe that stupid grin off my face even if I had tried. As Triple H put his thumb up to me and said "you're the man" over and over and over again, I was on cloud nine. Cloud ten even. All around me were my friends. Ric, Dave...Hunter.

All around me, three minutes and fifty five...fifty four...fifty three seconds ago were my friends. The men I traveled with. The men I roomed with. Partied with. Sparred with. Laughed with and cried with. All around me - three minutes and forty two seconds ago - was Evolution. The Evolution that I had now made proud. That I had now proved my worth to.

Three minutes and thirty five...thirty four...thirty two seconds ago. Hunter's thumb points to the mat. His eyes stay on me for what seems to be an eternity and all I can see is hate. Abyssal, burning hate. Once I soak in his expression, my smile vanishes. What did I do to gain that look of hatred? Was I seeing things?

Three minutes and twenty nine seconds later. I realized that Triple H was serious. All he had to do to prove that was mouth to Batista one order. One simple order.

"Down."

I was suddenly on my back, and before I could even think, Hunter was all over me. Striking directly at my skull. Cursing under heavy breathing. I could taste his hatred of me. When he was done, my body - limp and numb with pain - suddenly stood up like it had a mind of it's own. I glanced around to find that I was being held up by my friends. But they didn't recognize me. Batista. Ric. None of them recognized me. They couldn't hear me.

Then I realized, at the two minute twenty three second mark, that I wasn't talking. My mouth tasted of iron and salt. When had I started to bleed?

By the time I looked ahead, the last thing I saw was Hunter slamming the gold plate of the title right into my face. I fell. Hard.

For exactly two minutes and five seconds, my body recalls everything even though my mind had long since fled from consciousness. I remember being stepped on. Screamed at. Pushed. Shoved. Punched. And then violently struck again.

In the locker room - I don't recall how I got back here - I open my eyes to see the sullen expression of two whispering trainers. I try to call to them, but even I can hear the whimper, that barely passes for speech, escape my mouth. Realizing the futility, I turn away and spot the World Title.

It makes me think of something that Ric Flair once said. "To be the man, you've gotta beat the man." My naivety led me to believe that the man was whomever held the title. That the man was Chris Benoit, and by beating him I was now the man.

My eyes focus on the cold metal of that gold strap. I linger a few seconds on it, watching as my blood mixes into the title, before turning my eyes to the ceiling. Three things came to my mind in that moment.

One. I was still the Champion.

Two. Title or not, Triple H was the man, which meant that I had to beat him.

Three. Randy Orton, third generation star, was dead. He died over six minutes ago, back in that ring. Here on this stretcher laid Randy Orton.

Just, Randy Orton.


	3. Chapter 3

No matter what I do, Triple H will always be the man.

After failing time, and time again, I realized that I had no chance to take down the leviathan in Triple H. Years had passed by, and Evolution was no more. Yet, when I looked in the mirror this morning, I could still see those scars as though I had just gotten them. And no matter how many times I buried my face in cold water, nothing gave.

The scars of that night were still there.

In no time, Shawn Micheals and Hunter teamed together and from there, my life became a living hell. Shawn and Hunter were friends since the day Triple H stepped foot into the WWE, while Shawn and I had bad blood.

Not to mention Hunter.

Many looked on, and acknowledged that what had happened to me was something terrible that needed to be judged accordingly. That thought died just one year after I failed to judge accordingly by beating respect into Triple H. Now, as I look around the locker room, all I see are ugly faces staring back with shallow apologies. Waek whispers of "I feel for you...but I can't help you" and even the occassional "just move on. Let it go."

"Accept it."

Week in and week out Hunter and Shawn made sure I paid for a sin I never committed. No one backstage wanted to help. And I wanted it that way. I was going to take Triple H down, by myself. After close to year of torment, that wish began to greatly distance itself from me.

Enter Edge.

I never once paid attention to Edge - or anyone that didn't carry the name "Hunter" (and recently "Shawn") for that matter -however I learned that he was apparently a rising star who had recently broken it off with his tag team partner.

And he was looking for another one.

It didn't take long for Rated RKO to happen. And it did happen. And when it happened, the dubbed "DX" was the first thing to go. Then it was the Hardys. And then it was back to DX.

However, in the first few months, I began to realize that somewhere along the line, my naivety had come back in full swing. At some point in the game, I had started to really trust Edge. I had really believed that he cared for me and my career. It had slipped me momentarily that this was a dog-eat-dog world, and that I was a man on a mission.

I can't hate that realization as much as I would like to because had it not been for that realization, then I would never have met the Sleeping Beauty. Edge's former tag partner. Edge's long time friend. Edge's source of comfort and remorse - as well as his very own punching bag.


	4. Chapter 4

His name was Christian Cage.

Prior to this evening, I had never met Christian Cage. I had heard about him, but he, Edge and I were all on different shows to even meet one another.

However, fate, luck, destiny or whatever finally got the upper hand in my life and placed all three of us in the same arena, on the same night, in the same room, on the same show. If I was a betting man...then I would have lost this one.

Edge and I were growing tense by the second. He was using me as his pawn, and I wasn't having any of it but at the same time I'd stupidly hope that he would turn around and be the friend that he promised to be. Naive. Hopeless. Two words that marry the relationship of Rated RKO.

On this night, things escalated to a whole new level. Edge had once again left me high and dry in the ring against my two nemesis in Shawn and Hunter. Needless to say, I was beaten to a bloody pulp. Recently, I thought, I had been beaten and broken a lot, but to me everything paled in comparison to the pain I felt the night Hunter gave me a thumbs down and ordered Dave to drop me. It was that knowledge that kept me standing. That kept me going. That kept me on the other side of sanity.

Tonight, that other side came to life when I decisively hurt Edge. I had had enough of his games. Of his lies. I wanted out of this charade. I wanted the leash taken off. I got that all - and more - tonight. However, just a few minutes later, I regretted my actions instantly. It felt like a festering boil had suddenly formed in my stomach. It felt like I was suddenly wearing the skin of Triple H.

In that instant, I sought out Edge to apologize for my actions. I still wanted out, I assured, but not like this. After winding through the backstage area, I found an unused room - a lot of rooms end up being unused if they're too small and far away - with the door cracked slightly open. I had only gotten as far as the door itself before a shout from the one I was seeking halted my movements.

"You fucking idiot!"

I peered through the crack. Edge was standing. He was livid. His eyes were focused on someone ahead. Silently, I pushed the door open just a little bit more and found Edge's now turned back blocking my view. I heard - at a close range - a gun go off. That's what Edge's slap sounded like. The person on the receiving end stumbled, but only shortly for Edge had a death grip on the right wrist.

"I don't need your fucking sympathy! I don't need you, you fucking prick!" He roared. And then delivered another slap. This time, blood flew to the floor.

It was then that I stepped in.

Edge turned around. His eyes still lit with anger. I could see the bruises on his face that were a direct result from me. However, at the moment I completely ignored them and the reason I had come to this room in the first place.

My eyes were stuck on the shaking, short-haired blonde standing ahead of Edge with his wrist twisted painfully in Edge's grasp. I was staring long enough for him to look up and stare at me. I had expected a look of fright. A look of hurt. A look that screamed "help me". The blonde gave none of those looks. Instead, in his eyes I saw a look of frightened confusion. A look that as best described by Edge's words.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I focused harshly on him. "What's going on here Edge?"

He glanced at the blonde - forcing the man to stare at the floor - and then viciously threw the man's already beaten body into the wall beside them.

All the blonde did was let out a small cry in pain. That was it. The rest he held in as his body crumpled to the floor. Edge watched him with a stoic face that soon turned up into his usual look of sadism. Grinning from ear to ear, Edge kicked the already downed man straight into the ribs.

I cringed. I still remember cringing. I still cringe.

Again, no loud scream of pain. Just a whimper. A barely there cry. And that's all she wrote.

"Christian's just being a fuck up." Edge spoke - dragging my eyes from the blonde on the floor and up to his dangerous blues. "Just like you Randy."

I frowned hard. All regret and remorse that had served to drive me here had long since fled. Suddenly all I felt was hate. The same kind of hate I feel every time I see Triple H.

Maybe even more than that.

Definitely more than that.

Edge walked out of the room - bumping my shoulder as he passed. I didn't do anything about it, and I regret it the more I think I about it. However, I can't regret it too much because had I gone and chased Edge to scuffle with him some more, then I would never have met the Sleeping Beauty.

I would have never met Christian Cage.

He hadn't moved a muscle despite Edge being long gone. Instead, all he did was lie, curled awkwardly, on the floor. His face looked like the aftermath of a train wreck . His left arm was black and blue with bruises that had to be bone deep. His blood stained everything, including my arms as I carried him to the trainers.

Fights backstage wasn't and still isn't uncommon in the WWE. With that bit of luck, I took full blame for his condition because I knew Edge would turn it on me in any light and Christian - being so fearful of that lunatic - would not argue otherwise.

Vince had me suspended that night. And in those thirty days, all I could think about was Christian.


	5. Chapter 5

It all started with a simple introduction.

Once I returned to the WWE I focused on the story lines handed to me. The John Cena angle. The Shawn Micheals angle. The Triple H angle.

Edge and I barely made contact in the ring once Rated RKO died. It was for the better of course, seeing that had I gotten into a storyline with him, then he would never walk again once we were through.

Despite immersing myself in work, I still found time to take a better look at Christian Cage. John - being the only friend I had in those days; next to Calaway - filled me in on the details. The week after my suspension, Christian returned in full swing. When I asked how he looked, John said he looked fine. I realized that Christian had chosen to lock away the altercation between himself and Edge. And more precisely - and surprisingly - no one knew of why I had been suspended.

Not even John.

When I learned of that, I sought out Christian that night. For starters, I had to see him for myself. On TV he seemed fine, but I knew where to look for the truth. His eyes. They still held that dark fear. And upon seeing that, I wanted to go to him and rid him of that fear. Or at least find out what it was that he still feared. Was it Edge?

Or was it me?

The night ended on a good note for everyone involved. Triple H was still alive, but he wasn't Champion. I had yet to get my full revenge, but for now that was okay. Actually, it was because my mind was so full of Christian that that bit of mediocrity was okay.

For some reason, I came to care less and less about Triple H or what he was doing. And when my eyes locked on Christian for the first time in months, I realized just what that reason was.

Three years ago, I couldn't locate my heart beat. Standing at the doorway of this locker room...I heard the soft bumps of that long forgotten heart. Life breathed into me as my eyes waived over a seated Christian.

He was right there in front of me, yet I froze. I froze in every part except for my heart. He was beautiful Even more beautiful than he had been on TV. His slender neck - bent a bit to get a better view of the laces on his boots - has a perfect arch in it that was just begging to be touched. And kissed.

His arms were filled with small muscles that could only protect him to an extent. The same could be said for his hands. Their slender fingers weren't meant to fight. They were meant to touch and ward off pain. I wondered in that moment, if those beautiful hands could relinquish the anguish inside me. If I were held by them, clutched in those arms, and buried in the crevice of that thin clavicle...would three years of hate vanish?

Christian looked up. "Hey Orton." When did my name sound like that? When did it ever roll off someone's tongue without fear, or hate, or greed entangled in it?

I didn't know. I couldn't recall. But I knew one thing in that moment. I had to hear it again.

"Orton?" Christian called. I felt my knees give out, so I clung badly to the now wide-open door. The action made him smile. "What in the world are you trying to do?"

Right then, I felt like a child. I felt small and innocent. I felt...I felt relaxed. Comforted. Christian hadn't touched me. He hadn't even pitied me. He had just spoken to me. Called my name. And that was all I needed.

"I was just passing by when I saw you back here." It was a painfully obvious statement. "H-How are you doing?"

He sensed my intention. I wasn't asking that out of pure curiosity. I was asking because we both knew why. Despite seeing right through me, he never dropped his smile. "I'm good. I see you're good. Being WWE Champion and all." He spoke swiftly to bury the past, and even added to the mix by motioning to the title hanging over my shoulder.

In all this, I had forgotten that I was Champion. I had even forgotten that I was a WWE Superstar. In front of Christian, all I knew for sure was that I was Randy Orton. Just Randy Orton.

"Y-Yeah." I replied nervously. "So...um..." I looked about for a topic to sing upon.

"You know I don't believe that we've been properly introduced." Christian swung in quickly. "I'm Christian."

I looked at his hand. The one with the slender fingers. I knew deep in my core that it would be warm, and when I took it and shook it, I was not at all disappointed.

"Randy. Randy Orton."

He smiled to the James Bond type introduction, and I smiled back. "Nice meeting you." His fingers slipped out of my grasp and suddenly I was lost all over again. I was back in that deep hole of hatred covered in scars not visible to the human eye. "And..." He paused as his smile dripped away. "I want to thank you for doing what you did that night."

I didn't say anything to that. He didn't add to it either. Instead, we stood staring at each other for a few seconds, before he simply grabbed his already packed gym bag and headed out the door.

Just like Edge, he bumped my shoulder on the way out. I followed his exit with a simple turn of my head and watched him leave the locker room - head slightly tilted, shoulders a bit depressed - with a back that needed comforting.

My comforting.

I looked down at my hand when I realized it's absence from my side. It was hanging there, mid-air, with fingers frozen in the movement of reaching out. It was an unconscious movement so it took me a while to gather it, process it, and finally regain control of it before finally putting the hand down heavily.

My story starts with this introduction. And subsequently it ended there too.


	6. Chapter 6

The following week, Christian Cage no longer worked for the WWE.

My anger was there. It was there and it was aiming for both Christian - for not telling me - and for Edge - because I blamed him for Christian's resignation. However, as angry as I was and wanted to be , I couldn't move a step forward in that direction as in just a few months I was in every top feud imaginable.

Years would pass by and I would lock up with the best, the worst and the greatest. In all those years, Christian Cage still occupied my mind. Being the good friend that he was, John tired to get my mind off things by setting me up with any and everybody.

No one sufficed.

During those years, I found myself clinging to little things. Things like the way Christian said my name. Or the disappointment always lodged in his eyes. Or the warmth of his hands. All those little things got me through the years when watching tapes of Christian Cage could no longer meet that goal. They motivated me out of my bed. They got me to work. They kept me on top. They made Randy Orton the man he was - the man he hid away.

WrestleMania 24 was the final straw.

The years leading up to WrestleMania were only achievable because I continuously lied to myself. One day. One day Christian would return to the WWE. And I would be there to say and do what I should have done. What I could have done...to keep him from ever leaving.

When WrestleMania 24 came and ended, the realization of that lie hit me like a bolt of lightning. Three years had passed. Three years had gone by.

Three years...and Christian had not returned.

I can blame myself for the thought, but I won't. It was Christian's betrayal. His warmth. His sadness. His smile. They were all just lies - simple fragments of affection that he had left behind to keep me under control. To keep me loyal to him. Christian Cage was no different than the man who beat him. He was no different from Shawn. No different from Kurt. No different from Triple H.

I had let my guard down for three years. I had become soft. I had given into that ever-plaguing naivety. Once I had that truth, my heart stopped for the second time in my life. Christian had cut me deeper than Evolution had nearly five years ago. And all he had to do was say my name.

WrestleMania 24 saw the end of Randy Orton.


	7. Chapter 7

Two years had passed by.

In 2009, Randy Orton starts the Legacy. A faction of generational Superstars who were young, and hungry. He punts his boss into a coma. He wins the Royal Rumble to secure his spot in the main event at WreslteMania. Then he RKO's and DDT's Triple H's wife and then kisses her unconscious body with a handcuffed Hunter helplessly watching a few inches away. He enters into WrestleMania 25 confident in finally getting the victory over his long time enemy in Triple H, however destiny re-writes itself and sees him losing. However, just one month later, he puts Triple H on the shelf and completes his revenge by taking away the WWE Title from The Game on that very night.

2009 was the year of Randy Orton - dubbed "The Viper" for good reason. In all his contrivances in that year, Randy never once thought of Christian Cage. At one time in his life, Christian was all he could think of, however upon realizing a betrayal by the man, Randy grew to hate Christian and all he stood for. However, unlike his hatred for Triple H, Randy found himself unable to feed off of it. Instead, he buried it and left it to die.

2010. That hatred never died. Randy is now split from Legacy after punting former boy-toy in Cody Rhodes just to further infuriate Cody's secret boyfriend in Ted DiBiase. He's no longer known as a bad guy. Rather, the fans cheer for him. The locker room respects him. And to top it off, Shawn Micheals retires, and Triple H is no longer a deciding factor in his life. Instead he focuses on the new comers in Sheamus, and Nexus.

RAW no longer parades around under the banner of HHH. It's now RKO. However, all that means naught to Randy Orton who finds it difficult to smile about his victory and adjust to his new found life. The life he worked so hard to earn. Before, Randy Orton would have been able to link this problem to a lack of Christian and a subsequent worry of the man's well-being, however this is 2010. It's been five years. Randy Orton no longer recalls Christian. All he recalls is the sight of a lonely back entering a black void, and the heaviness of his hand as he forced it back to his side.

Due to Randy being on RAW, he is in unawares of Christian's return to the WWE. He doesn't notice that six months ago, Christian was here in the WWE. That six months ago, Christian had returned.

He doesn't notice that until now. It's now 2011. It's now a mere month before WrestleMania 27. Backstage, most of the Superstars are watching the Smackdown Elimination Chamber take place. John excitedly drags Randy over to the television. Randy watches as Edge retains and then gets beaten down by Royal Rumble winner, Del Rio, for his trouble. In just a few minutes, Randy decides to head back to the locker room and prepare for his match. However, before his eyes can fully look away, the announcers perk up. A man has entered the Chamber.

Randy turns to look. He shoves some people out of the way to get a better view. Yes. His eyes weren't deceiving him. The man taking out Del Rio is none other than Christian Cage. However, before Randy can get a happy thought in, something happens. Christian turns to Edge, helps the man to his feet and hugs him.

The blood drains from Randy Orton's face. His growing smile dies instantly. He turns away and slams the door behind.


	8. Chapter 8

I didn't want to see him.

In recent years, while I was busy hating Triple H and erasing Christian's impact from memory, Edge had become a recluse. He had - like Shawn Micheals - turned a new leaf. Most forgave him for past transgressions that stepped outside the boundaries of storyline. However, I didn't. As long as I had that memory of a broken Christian stuck in my mind, I was never going to forgive him.

Christian had.

The object of my unwillingness to let bygones be bygones had stabbed me in the back by forgiving and forgetting everything that Edge had done to him.

I hated it. And that forced me out of wanting to see him again.

Yet I did see him. I was over on Smack Down just to help some of the new guys with their training before the cameras started rolling, and that's when Christian chose to walk in. He was all smiles and laughter with a siding Edge. There stood the man I had not seen in five years, and there stood the man I hated standing beside him.

I tossed aside the greenhorns, and without really thinking, I just grabbed Christian and locked us both in one of the empty rooms in the back area. Silence encompassed us for close to five minutes, and during that time I stood staring at him. He looked the same as he had five years ago. Nothing had changed. It was like a clock had stopped the night he left and now, five years later, not one bit of age had caught up with him. His body was still racked with small muscles. His torso was still slim and hardly defined. I was twice his size - with room to spare - and that fact scared me. However, what put that to rest was something unfortunate.

Five years had not rid the fear in his eyes. He was still just as fragile as I had first met him, but this time he just wasn't bleeding - not physically anyways.

"Hey Randy." I didn't want to hear that. I wished - I prayed that I hadn't heard that. Yet I did. And it sounded just like it used to. It sounded kind, and warm, and loving. And it still made me yearn for more. "How have you been?"

Five years. Five years of forcibly forgetting but remembering just the same. Five years...and this was all he had to say? "Why did you come back?"

He looks at me a bit befuddled before responding. "I love the WWE. Nothing's going to ever change that." His voice instantly lowered. "I realize that now."

"Why couldn't you realize that before?" There it was. The first bit of pent up emotion that just refused to die. "Why did five years have to go by before you realized that?"

His confusion only deepens. It's understandable I suppose. "Randy..." He starts, however the door opens and in walks a face I wish to have run repeatedly under a truck. Turned a new leaf? Hell would have to do more than just freeze for me to believe that.

"Christian" He scrawls out the name. I glance to him to find that smirk on his face. "Sorry to disturb you guys, but we have to get going."

Christian looks to him. The fear's not there - but freaking admiration is. "Okay." His eyes drop to me, "I'm sorry Randy." He apologizes with ease and it makes me feel childish all over again. Protected even. "It's good to see you again though. Maybe we could catch up sometime."

And with that, he's gone. Both hands feel like lead. My arms are too heavy to even describe with words. Dejection hurts. It hurts a lot. I look over my shoulder and curse myself for following Christian with my eyes yet again. He leaves the room, with Edge strapped around his shoulder. Had I been Dracula, this stake that's sticking out of my heart would have certainly been the end of me.

Somehow, I felt like it was.


	9. Chapter 9

It happened.

Honestly, I feel sick to my stomach for ever wishing it to happen, but it happened and there was nothing I could do to change that.

Just two weeks after he returned at the Elimination Chamber, I return to my hotel after a night out with the boys and find Christian sleeping - curled awkwardly and all - in front of my room door. I don't even have to be in close range to see the hurt that's etched onto his face. Part of me in the moment wanted to just step right over him, enter the room, close the door and leave it be. I told you so (in essence) Christian. The end. However, that part was instantly swallowed the moment this fled, weakly ,from Christian's lips:

"R...Randy"

It took me a few seconds to realize that he had called my name and it took me longer to conclude that he had called my name in his sleep. Stepping over him and moving on was no longer an option. It was no longer even a candidate to become an option. Right then, all I wanted to do was hold him like I always dreamed I would. Five years ago, I was too confused and concerned to make the correct decision.

Five years later, and I scoop Christian's sleeping body into my arms and carry him into my room. After laying him out onto the bed, Christian instantly recoils into his former semi-fetal position. The suddenness of the movement injures him and it shows pointedly on his face as his brows knit and his teeth clench tightly against each other. When the pain subsides, tears begin to trickle from his eyes, run along the lines in his face in a jagged downward motion, and end by staining both the pillow and his face.

Despite having no proof whatsoever, right then I wanted to kill Edge. I wanted to locate him in this building - in this city - and tear him limb from limb. I wanted to do it...but just like all those years ago, had I gone after Edge, then Christian would be here locked in his pain and forced to suffer in it all alone. Leaving Christian on this bed in favor of beating Edge down was not an option. I had to stay here and watch over the Sleeping Beauty.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I had somehow fallen asleep. And the only thing that led to waking me up was the lingering feel of someone's hand gently running slender fingers through my hair. To my disappointment, the hand wasn't there when my eyes opened. The only proof of Christian's existence in my room that night was his body indent that still stuck to the sheets of the bed. I rested my hand on it, and then launched my cheek onto it.

There aren't enough words in the dictionary to describe how warm it was.


	10. Chapter 10

The first time I realized my role in The Sleeping Beauty was the night after Smack Down aired. Once more, the rosters gathered together for a night out. It had become something of a bad habit - but that's to be expected when one's in the city that never sleeps. After back and forth arguments, we all agreed to go to a nearby restaurant. It apparently was rumored to have the best steak in all of New York - probably in all of America. I let Texas be the judge of that.

Since the night I picked Christian up, a pattern resurfaced. If I had to compare, then my work life now seemed to be wonderfully mirroring my past work life. In no time at all I was flung back into the heaviness that was my storyline with CM Punk. We were literally just weeks away from Extreme Rules where we were scripted to have our final battle, however all those days leading up to this point saw me everywhere and nowhere all at once.

In no time at all, I had not seen Christian .

Then John Cena tore me to this restaurant gathering, which led to the end of that streak.

The lights in the restaurant - with their focus on dull yellows and earthy hues - did not do the sight of Christian Cage justice, however seeing him in a different light (figuratively and literally) forced my eyes to lose the blinding cartoon hearts and see what truly lay in front of me.

Christian Cage. Late 30s. Mid-athletic build. Tall at a little over six feet. Blond short hair. Slightly crooked smile.

In the barely-there light of this restaurant sat the man I had never stopped thinking about - never stopped truly thinking about - for five straight years. There sat the man I had loved. Still love. In five years time I had earned more respect than I could ever had hoped for. I had buried my hatchet with Triple H and the rest of Evolution - the scars weren't even there anymore. In five years, I had rediscovered life.

For all that I gained in those five years, I would have gladly lost it all - given it all back - just to have said what I should have said, and done what I should have done the night he walked out on WWE. On me.

Instead, here he sat, in this poor light, beside the man who has caused him more grief in one lifetime than the Devil himself causes in an eternity. And they laughed. And they talked. And I knew, right then and there, what my role in this story was.

I was just a third wheel. And third wheels don't hope - not now, and certainly not in fairytales. So what was I trying to do? What did I hope to achieve by waiting here and hoping that one day he'd see my efforts and know the truth? That he'd realize that the Prince in Edge didn't care about him, but the impersonating solider did?

As I watched Edge and Christian drift off into their own little world, I saw clearly in it the lack of space for me. No matter what happened now, then, or ever...I realized then that Christian Cage would never see Randy Orton as anything more than a temporary escape from Edge. And it was all because that Randy Orton had saved him once...and would gladly save him again.

And again.

And again.


	11. Chapter 11

The draft came with swift vengeance.

The last to go was me.

In just a blink of an eye I was no longer on the RAW roster. I was suddenly on the roster of Smack Down. However, the shock of the draft paled in comparison to the weeks prior to.

Barely nicked out of WrestleMania, Edge came onto RAW to make an announcement. He was retiring, and leaving behind his World Heavyweight Title. I found myself - after hearing the news - regretting every bit of hatred that I ever held towards Edge. No matter how bad a person he was, I knew that leaving now and forever had to be tearing him apart inside. Then just as quickly, the former regret fled when I realized that karma had finally caught up with Edge. Years of bad doings was never going to just vanish with a sudden change of heart.

If that was the case, then I was next on karma's hit list wasn't I? For almost ten years, all I knew was hatred. Suddenly all that hatred fled with the implantation of Christian into my life. I had a change of heart. A sudden change of heart.

The comparison sickened me. I did not want to be like Edge. I wasn't like Edge. I wasn't the one repeatedly stabbing Christian's heart and breaking him down to nothing every chance I got. It dawned on me then that all the hate I had towards Edge really held no merit. In the past, Edge hurt Christian and it showed. However, nowadays, I only thought Edge was responsible for Christian's weakened spirit. Actually - and honestly - I had hoped that Edge was responsible because if he wasn't...

...then I was.

Extreme Rules came and left. And if left on a good note. Christian was finally World Champion thanks in part to (begrudgingly on my part ) Edge. He had finally realized a dream. And he celebrated with Edge, while I watched from the sidelines.

Yeah. It hurt. But what hurt more was being the one who took that dream away. The wounds received from Extreme Rules had barely even closed up for us both, and in one simple instant, Christian was a former Champion and I was now the regining Champion.

The scenario looked familiar with only three differences. The cast, the time, and the length of the reign.

I was the former Champion. Triple H walked away with my gold. And it had been...what...two weeks? Two weeks. That was all the time I got to be Champion. However, unlike Christian, I had eight more to celebrate with. This was his one.

And possibly...his only.

I looked back to him that night and instead of fear, I saw that abysmal disappointment locked in his eyes. He looked alone in the world, but every cell in my being knew that although I wanted to be the one who occupied his world...Christian did not want the man who just beat him.

He wanted the man who gave him that chance.

In a sick reversal, Christian wanted to run from me, and gain comfort in Edge.


	12. Chapter 12

The distance had grown.

Since losing the title, Christian barely spoke to me.

Here I was, nearly seven years after Evolution, and still the gold of the World Heavyweight Title was as heavy as lead.

Years had passed by and somehow I was back in the same position that I had always been in. The door's wide open. At any time, I can enter that room and touch him. Edge is no longer here to hate. Triple H is no longer here to hate. Nothing stands between Christian and I at this moment, yet somehow - just like when he left - I stand frozen to the floor.

It's aggravating. All I have are the little things - the sound of his voice calling my name, his warm touch that flutters away in every passing breeze, the softness of his aged skin - that serve to get me going. Just like back then, all I can do is harp on those little things, rely hopelessly on them, cling to them in desperation just so that I can move one foot forward.

How long has it been?

Seven years. Eight years. Nine? I lost count at three. I lost count at five. Before I realized it, I had stopped counting all together, and at some point, just accepted my role in this version of Sleeping Beauty. Accepted the fact that possibly forever, I would stand here in this spot watching Christian huddle to himself from time to time to erase a pain that I can't see, or taste or touch. With Edge out of the picture, I no longer have him to blame.

Then... who am I left with?

There's a shadow. It's standing directly in front of me - floor wise - and is staring at me through eyes that I can't see. For some reason, it takes me a while to realize that the shadow belongs to me. It's standing between me, and Christian - who's sitting atop that bed huddled a bit in sporadic pain. All that stands in my way right now is not Edge or my grudge to Triple H. Rather, my shadow is all that's in the way.

I'm in the way.

Like a brick, that truth hits me.


	13. Chapter 13

How long?

How long must I wait before you finally wake up and see the person who's been here , all this time, loving you and caring for you? How long should I just stand here and wait in that hope?

How long?

I made a mistake. Standing here in this doorway, I realize that I've made a mistake. A six plus year mistake. It's not you who decides how long I should wait for you to wake up is it? I know now. I'm not the noble Prince. I'll never be your noble Prince. However, your noble Prince failed to wake you because you refused to get up.

Since that's the case, Christian, then all that means is that you've already known of my existence. You've already recognized my presence. You already know that I've been here and will always be here. You know all this.

But I haven't said any of it have I? No. Not one word. I never said a single word to you. I just stood there watching, waiting. But you waited more than I did, didn't you Christian? You've been waiting in a frozen time for me to make the first move. You've just been here waiting on me to confirm what you want to believe.

That I love you.

"Isn't that right?"

Christian looks up at me. In the time that I had been watching him, the tears that had been flowing have long since dried. Now, only small traces remain in his slightly puffed eyes. "Isn't what right?" He asks confused in a low tone.

The bed creaks a bit as I take a seat on it next to him. "I can't believe it took me so long to realize it." I let out a short laugh. Christan does nothing more than look even more perplexed. The expression steadies a smile onto my face as I do something that I've never once done.

With a gentle right, I cup the side of Christian's fragile face in my palm, running the fingertips over his skin only slightly, just to get a taste of what it feels like. I hold my breath expecting that he'll just retreat in an instant and disappear from my sight yet again, however when neither happens, I take the next initiative. I place my hand around that bend in the back of his neck, pull him close, and lock him in a gentle - yet constricting - embrace.

The warmth he emits doesn't disappoint.

"I'm sorry for taking so long." I can feel his eyelashes bat against one another as they blink to each letter. "I was so fixated on you waking up that I missed the fact that all you ever needed was verbal confirmation." I pull away - just far enough to see his face. "So here it is."

Within mere seconds, my lips have locked with his and are having trouble letting go. Once air becomes necessary, I find the strength to cease draining him like that.

My forehead drops lifelessly to land gently on his. His eyes have yet to leave me. They - thankfully - aren't afraid, sad or disappointed. They're just mesmerizing. Simply beautiful. "I love you."

He lets out a small laugh as his eyes drop to the miniscule bed space between us. "When I left," His voice croaked to a slow start, "I never wanted to look back. I wanted to be free of Edge's abuse so badly that I was willing to turn my back on WWE for good. But everyday I found myself thinking of that kid who stood up and saved me, only to then sacrifice himself by taking the full blame and brunt of the consequences without batting an eye." His eyes look back up at me. "You saved me twice Randy. That's more than anyone's ever done in my entire life." His voice broke off a bit. I could see the reason welling up in those eyes of his. "I felt so guilty about leaving you, that even when I came back, I still lacked the courage to man up and tell you how I really felt." He drew in a deep breath to ward off the soliciting tears as his eyes dropped to his hands that rested partially on my lap.

I glanced down to see their slender fingers fiddling about with the jeans fabric covering both legs. In that instant, I knew the barrier had to go. And soon.

"Instead, I ran back to Edge." His low tone cut less than the actual words that he spoke. "He had changed. A lot. However, I didn't want to stay with him at all. Not even when he asked me to join him in retirement. I didn't want Edge." Blue orbs fell back on me. "I want you Randy. I've always-"

For some reason, his lips just looked really lonely. So, without taking in any prior considerations, I caged them again in another lengthy kiss that expired and still went on. When I broke away this time, I found Christian's face beet red. It brought another kind of smile to my face.

"You're going to have a lot of time to say whatever you want to say." I ran a thumb over the visible wet spot on his lower lip. "But for now, let me give us both what we've been wanting."

His expression molded to puddy the longer I stared at him. "What's that?"

My smile threw itself to the far left. "A happy ending."


End file.
